


Slave and Free

by asynje



Series: Even the Night [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, Master/Slave, Vikings, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asynje/pseuds/asynje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU. The time is 1012 till 1014. Svend Tveskæg (Forkbeard) is king of Denmark and has conquered England. The place is Ringsted, a ting-sted (place where official business is conducted) and village on the island of Sjælland, Denmark. Extensive notes and translations can be found <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/asynje/30363.html">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Slave and Free

**Author's Note:**

> AU. The time is 1012 till 1014. Svend Tveskæg (Forkbeard) is king of Denmark and has conquered England. The place is Ringsted, a ting-sted (place where official business is conducted) and village on the island of Sjælland, Denmark. Extensive notes and translations can be found [here](http://www.livejournal.com/users/asynje/30363.html).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was captured at Seaf in the year 1012 and taken on the Norsemen's ship across the sea.

He was captured at Seaf in the year 1012 and taken on the Norsemen's ship across the sea. Afterwards he could never remember the sacking of his hamlet. It all drowned in flashes of steel and pain. He knew that he had become a thing and that they merely fed him to sell him later, back in their own country, but he was hungry so he ate.

The men mocked him when he was seasick and took his crucifix from him but they only beat him once because he had tried to escape. He didn't try again after that.

He was taken to a village where there was some sort of court, his captors figuring that they would be able to sell off their human commodities before returning home.

The one who had lain claim to Sean, Ulf, a huge man with a greying beard, had found a buyer and Sean was now being prodded by a tall stranger whose gaze he refused to meet.

_I am a thing._

But apparently the man would not settle for this, for he asked Ulf a question and when the answer was negative he prodded Sean hard and asked: "What is your name?" in Saxon. This startled Sean so much that he answered without thinking, and then the stranger laughed and his eyes crinkled and Sean felt the heat in his groin, the wrong heat, the bad heat, and his face coloured. This made the stranger laugh even harder and Ulf laughed too and said something Sean didn't understand about the stranger and his use for Sean; and then the deal was done and Sean got dragged away. He studied the stranger from under lowered lashes. He was tall and his tunic was the bluest cloth Sean had ever seen. Everybody greeted him as they went but the looks he received were not all friendly. A powerful man then. He took Sean to his house and turned to him, speaking in Saxon again.

"You belong to me now, do you understand?"

Sean nodded.

He was someone's property now.

It stung.

The man was looking at him, a small smile curving his lips. "You do not like that?"

He didn't answer and received a cuff around the ear.

"No."

"There are things that are wrong for a free man but that do not matter when one is owned. You no longer have honour, but that can be a good thing too."

The treacherous words snake inside his mind, their touch so soft that he hardly notices the hands touching him, before it is too late. He twists away and the man laughs.

"Ulf was right. You are willful. But that is good." He comes closer, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "I shall enjoy breaking you in."

Sean tries to move away, to get to the door – it is useless, he knows this, but he has to try, has to know that he tried – but the low-spoken words of the man stop him.

_"Stalden er brændt.  
Bonden er hængt.  
Konen er faren galen til skovs;  
Og du går her."_

He cannot move. And when the hands take hold of him, he almost sighs. He tried. Nobody can do more than that.

"That is how I keep my cattle," the man says. "And now that is how I am keeping you."

He turns Sean around and looks him in the eye while he says: "I am Viggo called _Tungu-Viga_ or _Skald Viga_. I sailed with _Svend Konge _, as part of his _hird_. I am a _skjald_ and people say of me that I can sing the wind and make the wild beasts do my bidding." Then he smiles and against his will Sean falls into that smile, drowns deep in it, feels it wrap around his soul.   
"And maybe I can."

Sean hears the unspoken words clearly. This is no lesser man that owns you. And so he seals his fate – for what else can he do – against strong word charms – and the treason of his own heart – and bows his head as he says: "Herre."

Viggo laughs, loudly this time, and calls him clever – "For they also call me _Brundabeitil_" - and he grabs his crotch and says "stallion" while he winks, and Sean blushes a fierce red. Then a woman comes and Viggo leaves, leaving her to explain to Sean what he is to do. A difficult thing since he knows little of her tongue and she less of his.

She keeps looking at him, an odd measuring gaze, and although it is as his herre said - slaves have no honour - he still feels the sting of her unvoiced words. Not a real man.

He does not see Viggo until late that night when he returns, waking Sean. He smells of mead and when he yanks Sean up to a kneeling position, he can feel how his shoulders are used as support, keeping Viggo upright while he opens his belt and lets his trousers fall down. Then Viggo's cock is in his face, and though he doesn't understand what he is saying – _sut på den, Sean_– the sentiment is clear and he does it, choking down shame and tears and lust.

Viggo's cum floods his mouth and makes him gag, but Viggo crashing down on him, kissing his face and pushing his tongue into his mouth, shatters his world and leaves him in a daze that lasts for days.

 

* * *

 

It is wrong. It is a sin. And he longs for it all the time, while he is chopping  
wood and moving logs, while he is fetching water It has never been like this before and his master seems unconcerned, although the looks he's getting from the others in the village are clear and open, as if what happens at night is visible on both him and Sean.

And the coupling is one thing, he can understand why his master does that – just like dogs showing who is the leader – the largest male riding the others – but he does not understand the kisses, and every time he tries his gut clenches and he has to stop thinking about it again so his heart won't jump out of his chest. And the nights when he is not told to come to sleep next to his master he lies alone and fears that he will never feel his master's tongue inside his mouth again. And that thought is surely sinful.

But not only does his master kiss him, he also talks to Sean and teaches him words so he can understand what Hild, Viggo's sister-daughter says to him. And he tells him of great things, battles and heroes and of the time he sailed one of the longships across the sea. He also tells of those he call gods but this frightens Sean, for he knows that eternal torment awaits the unbeliever and he doesn't want any torment to come to his master. Viggo merely laughs at him and says that he doesn't fear _Hvide Krist_ – White Christ – for he has pledged himself to _Odinn_ and is thus secured a place at the high table in _Asgård_.

 

* * *

 

Sean never forgets that he is no longer his own, a man, for Viggo will look at him and call him _"min lille hors"_ and it doesn't sting. And it should, if he was a man. And when he asks one day if it isn't wrong to do what they do, Viggo smiles at him and says that he is fucking Sean and that is fine. It is only wrong to_ be_ fucked, like a woman, and when Sean turns his head away Viggo says, as if to soothe: _"Du er jo min at gøre med, som jeg vil. Er du ikke, min lille hors?" _ and Sean nods and no more is said of it.

At times Sean will wake in the night, trembling with fears he cannot name, and if it is a good night, a night where he sleeps nestled against his master, Viggo will sing to him, powerful songs that make the fears go, and he never mocks Sean in the morning.

_"Maren, maren, minde  
Du får ej blive herinde  
Hvor meget du end bider  
Fugl i skov   
Og fisk i hav  
Alle egetræer s  
Og den Højes ord"  
_

 

At night he teaches Sean other things than words, sweeping him away from himself in wild currents of pleasure and pain, making him cry out and beg. He shows him how to use his tongue and hands and one night – a full two years after he bought Sean – he tells him to stay still while he lightly carves runes on Sean's chest, bloody markings that bind Sean to him and Sean cannot breathe when they are done, so full is he of sweet pain that leaves no room for breath.

And then the world turns cold.

 

* * *

 

Viggo slept and dreamed of crashing waves of blood and screeching ravens and when he awoke he knew his death was upon him. Svend had died in England and now the carrion crows were fighting over the spoils at home.

Sean had gone out to fetch water and when he came back his master was standing, battle-ready, helmet in one hand.

Neither noticed the pallet falling to the floor, soaking the straw.

"Let me come."

"No."

"I belong with you."

"Yes."

Sean could feel the fierce stinging in his eyes as he tried to find the words for what was inside him. The thing inside so big that there was no room for him at times. But he didn't know those words and so he merely stood there, helplessly repeating, "Let me come."

Viggo came closer and let his fingers trail gently down Sean's cheek. "They would hew you down and I don't want that to happen." He smiled at Sean and kissed him, tasting the saltiness of tears hiding in Sean's mouth.

"You are the sun to me, and I shall sing your name while I die."

There was a fierce light in Viggo's eyes and he looked so happy that Sean could not bear to look at him, joyous madness turning his smile too radiant. And so he hid his eyes and did not see the sun gilding his master's helmet, the strength of his back as he went to fetch his horse and rode off, singing. Instead he gathered the soaked straw and threw them away, chopped wood for the fire, fetched more water, and then lay down in front of the cold, black fire pit and wept himself to sleep. Except that no tears marked his cheeks and no rest came to him.

When Hild came to the house five days later he knew what had happened the moment he saw her face.

Viggo was dead.

Hild went back to her father's house and brought Sean with her. And there he worked and slept and ate but he tasted nothing but ashes and the sun never shone.

 

* * *

 

The leaves had turned to gold twice when the frost came so hard upon the village that people started speaking of _Fimbul_ and the end of days.

Sean has come to the Hall to talk with her father and Hild realizes then that he walks as a dead man. And she feels guilty.

He had asked her once, where Viggo was now, and she had told him that because he had died in battle, as a true warrior should, he was now in _Odinn's Hall, Valhalla_.

"I shall see him again," he'd said and she had told him no.

_Valhalla_ was for warriors. Common men and women went to bleak _Hel_, where the bedspread is named Nightmare and the plates are all called Hunger for the Dead are ever restless and food is for the living. She had not told him that she didn't know whether a _træl_ would be allowed to cross the bridge to _Hel_ at all.

He had looked so desolate that she had said: "But the priests of your _Hvide Krist_, don't they say that his followers go to a good place when they die, for having stayed true?" and he looked at her with eyes like lightless windows and said: "I care not." -If I cannot be with him- was left unsaid but as easily heard as a scream.

Now he stands before her father, head bowed, and tells in his halting words that Viggo had spoken of the Great Winter in Uppsala and how they had fought it off, bringing great sacrifices to the Lord of Battle. Her father dismisses the thought of giving up any of the livestock – they are hard enough pressed as it is, too many mouths and hardly any grain left – and the next words drop like stones in water, causing ripples through all the Hall until all have turned, their eyes on the unfree.

"There could be a man given."

"And I suppose that you would volunteer," her father says, and she knows the answer before it is said.

She understands better now why her uncle was so fond of the Saxon. He is clever, positioning himself as the willing victim, given to the High One who ever was a friend of her uncle's, gaining entrance into an Afterlife that should be closed to him. And he deserves it too, she thinks, unflinching when the enclosure is prepared, the light finally back in his eyes. She knows not what charms her uncle put on him ere he went to his death but she cannot help feeling that it was unkindly done. No living thing should be so tied to another that life loses all meaning.

It is better this way.

 

* * *

 

The torches throw but little light on the wooden enclosure behind the house but the snow grabs it eagerly and shines with stolen light in the darkness. He cannot feel his feet for he is barefoot and numb from the cup he emptied before he was taken outside. His head is spinning and he is not so much walking as being pushed into the enclosure where _goden_ stands. When he is told to kneel he can feel the smile spread on his face - _yes, this is the way it should be – how I should come to you_ \- and he hardly feels the cord tightening around his throat, so intent is he on the pale blue eyes looking into his, the strong hands reaching out for him, catching him as he falls forward into the darkness.

The corpse is tied onto the branches of the great aspen tree next to the enclosure and they all walk back after having toasted one last time.

That night the storm tears at the roof like a mad thing and the following morning there is not a trace left of the Saxon, neither in the branches nor on the snow-covered ground. All agree that this is good indeed, for did they not hear the High One's horse neighing in the night?

Soon the winter will end.

And it does.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes:
> 
> Pairing: SB/VM  
> Rating: R-NC17  
> Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
> Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at heksen_vajd AT hotmail.com  
> Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), [](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/profile)[**sons_of_gondor**](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure we can work something out.  
> Beta: [](http://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/profile)[**viva_gloria**](http://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/), [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=colleen_kane)[**colleen_kane**](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=colleen_kane), and [](http://msilverstar.livejournal.com/profile)[**msilverstar**](http://msilverstar.livejournal.com/). All hail.   
> All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> Warning: Death. Emotional pain. More death.  
> Notes: AU. The time is 1012 till 1014. Svend Tveskæg (Forkbeard) is king of Denmark and has conquered England. The place is Ringsted, a ting-sted (place where official business is conducted) and village on the island of Sjælland, Denmark. Extensive notes and translations can be found [here](http://www.livejournal.com/users/asynje/30363.html).


	2. Dreams and Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A modern day follow-up to [ Slave and Free](http://www.livejournal.com/users/asynje/30894.html). Reading that first should make this more coherent. Heed the warnings.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
horny  
---|---  
**Current music:** | netradio Boogie @ www.dr.dk  
**Entry tags:** |   
[au](http://asynje.livejournal.com/tag/au), [lotrips vig/bean](http://asynje.livejournal.com/tag/lotrips%20vig/bean)  
  
  
_ **Series:But the Night Must Fall 2/2** _

Title: Dreams and Darkness  
Author: [](http://asynje.livejournal.com/profile)[**asynje**](http://asynje.livejournal.com/)  
Series: But the Night Must Fall 2/2  
Pairing: SB/VM  
Rating: R-NC17  
Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at heksen_vajd AT hotmail.com  
Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), [](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/profile)[**sons_of_gondor**](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure we can work something out.  
Beta: [](http://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/profile)[**viva_gloria**](http://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/), [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=colleen_kane)[**colleen_kane**](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=colleen_kane), and [](http://msilverstar.livejournal.com/profile)[**msilverstar**](http://msilverstar.livejournal.com/). All hail. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
Notes: A modern day follow-up to [ Slave and Free](http://www.livejournal.com/users/asynje/30894.html). Reading that first should make this more coherent. Heed the warnings.

 

* * *

 

Sean had looked tired and drawn all day and so Viggo had more or less expected him to call off their dinner plans.

He didn't.

He showed up on time at Viggo's door step, showered and silent, with a closed look on his face and carrying three bottles of expensive red.  
Viggo ushered him into the kitchen where Sean cast one look at the carefully set table and burst out laughing.

"Couldn't be bothered to take out the good china, Viggo?"

Viggo looked at the kitchen table, the green earthenware plate, the B&amp;G seagull china plate, the mismatched wineglasses and the bouquet of redroot, cat's ear, and sweet briar in the mayonnaise jar and grinned.

"It's only you, isn't it?"

He returned to his casserole, and Sean busied himself with opening the wine and filling their glasses.

Even with nothing but his back visible, it was quite obvious that there was something bothering Sean. He figured that whatever it was, it would come out in its own good time and so the conversation during dinner stayed light, hovering above Sean's nervous hands.

They'd moved from the kitchen table to the sitting room, bringing their wine glasses before Sean finally started talking. Viggo had just lit some candles, creating a warm, dim light that made the corners of the room stretch away and captured Sean in a glowing cage as he distributed the last of the wine in their glasses.

"I dream all the time."

Sean's voice is quiet but there's an edge to it Viggo isn't used to and so he pays attention, even though the statement seems a bit of a non sequitur.

He lets his eyes glide down Sean's arms, taking in the tenseness of his shoulders and how his knuckles look like marble, clutching the stem of his wine glass.

"I don't dream, normally. Nothing important anyway. But now - It's every night. And … and they're odd dreams. Really loony bin material."

Viggo sits down next to him and because he doesn't know what else to do -_ and because his hands itch to feel Sean – touch Sean_ \- he puts a hand on Sean's knee, wanting him to know that it is okay.

That is all it takes. Sean starts talking of strange forests, filled with silent shapes suspended from the dead branches of huge trees. Of the sharp, pungent smell of smoke, dark wooden halls, too bright sunlight – the colors are all wrong – of invisible shackles holding him.

He tells of strange signs cut into his flesh, bleeding, of loud singing and the taste of blood in his mouth, strong enough to wake him.

He tells of being so afraid when he wakes up, not daring to open his eyes. And of waking up crying, because somebody has died, somebody he loved, and now nobody remembers who he was.

Then he starts telling of the man in his dream, the pale eyes, words he doesn't understand spilling from know but not remembered lips, making him twist and moan and wake up covered in sweat, cooling cum on his belly. And Viggo starts coughing, having just taken a rather large gulp of wine, trying to hide how Sean's words are affecting him; Sean stops and leans over to clap him on the back.

Sean's hand is warm. And he doesn't move it. Viggo looks up and Sean's face is naked through the tear-blur in Viggo's eyes. Sean's eyes are wide and wondering and he sounds forlorn when he asks:

"How can I dream of a man with your eyes, Viggo?"

And he doesn't know what to answer, and then Sean's hand moves up to stroke his cheek and he leans closer and they're kissing and he really shouldn't let this happen. Sean is drunk and upset and Viggo is very much aware that he is too turned on himself to be truthful as to how much is Sean's want and how much is just him. Him wanting Sean. Wanting Sean to want him.

He tries to move away, but Sean has tightened his hold on him, fisted his hands in his hair, and Viggo can feel his own lips bruise from Sean's kiss. He is talking, but it isn't making any sense. A stream of disjointed words until he pulls away and says, quite clearly, "I want to fuck you" and Viggo can feel his gut clench – all mad butterflies and a wisp of pain – _it's not like that - he's not interested in you like that - he's only hurting_ \- but he pushes it down and says: "Let's go into the bedroom, then."

In the bedroom Viggo rummages through his dresser and manages to locate both lube and condoms while Sean strips, and when he turns, feeling distinctly more tipsy than minutes before -_ before kissing Sean_ \- his face shows nothing of his desire for more. This will have to do.

And the sight of Sean naked, stroking himself, looking at Viggo with an unreadable expression in his eyes is enough to make sweat trickle down his spine, making him forget that he wants more.

He crouches down in front of Sean, giving in to an urge to nuzzle his cock with his face and Sean moans but keeps looking at Viggo, a strange smile on his lips.

He keeps watching as Viggo strokes the condom on him, and then says: "Lie down," as he takes the lube; Viggo does so and hardly has time to get settled before two fingers are pushed inside him and it's so good - if a bit too fast - that he can't help himself, moaning and pushing back.

Sean laughs and Viggo thinks it sounds wrong, too flat somehow, but then Sean replaces his fingers with his cock and all thoughts flee leaving only a litany of need - _fuck me, oh fuck me – please Sean – fuck me – harder – harder – knep mig _\- in its place. Sean's weight is pressing him down, trapping his cock painfully against the mattress and he pushes up against him, trying to get the angle right, without succeeding.

Sean is hammering away, biting down on Viggo's shoulder, hard enough to break the skin, and from the sounds he is making and trying to muffle, one should think that he was the one being fucked mercilessly.

Viggo manages to get a hand under himself but he's got hardly any room to move and in the end he come as much from the feel of Sean shuddering, groaning harshly in his ear, as from anything else, white sparks blinding him.

When his breathing has calmed he realizes that Sean is still trembling and when he turns to face him it doesn't really come as a surprise that Sean's cheeks are wet with tears. Tentatively, Viggo strokes his hair and it seems to help, so he continues, saying the sort of soothing nonsense you say to children or pets. Sean is unbearably distant; eyes shielded and dark, but when Viggo leans over and kisses him he responds, capturing Viggo's mouth and putting a hand on his hip. And when Viggo embraces him, he sighs and what tenseness is left in him drains out, leaving him warm and heavy in Viggo's arms. Viggo scatters small, light kisses on his face as he falls asleep and tries to keep his heart in check, close to the ground.

When the alarm goes off the next morning, Viggo is alone in bed, the smell of sex and the pains the only evidence of Sean having been there in the first place. And his heart lands heavily in his chest.

 

They're still friends, of course. Everything is remarkably unchanged. Sean will come over and they'll sit and talk for a while and sometimes they'll just say goodnight and sometimes he'll be pushed down and devoured – sucked - fucked - and it seems every time as if Sean's in pain, desperately looking for something that isn't there. Not looking at Viggo but behind him somehow, as if Sean thinks Viggo is hiding behind himself. And Viggo can feel how it's beginning to affect him. Never being seen. Always waking up alone. Never trying to put into words what is happening.

 

It all comes to an end at a cast party at PJ's. Sean is drunk but affectionate, even accepting Orlando's too-wet kisses graciously, and suddenly Viggo can think of nothing but making Sean beg. The intensity of the thought startles him. He's always considered himself a gentle, considerate lover. Passionate, sure, but not like - Not like the images in his mind now, of Sean on his hands and knees, fully open. Ready. Begging.

Sean looks at him then and he must be able to tell something from Viggo's gaze, for suddenly he is making excuses for the both of them, dragging Viggo out the door, down to hail a cab, ignoring the mock cat calls following them.

They ride in silence, Sean's hand on his thigh, and they hardly make it inside Viggo's flat, before he is pushing Sean against the wall, biting his neck, pulling at his clothes.

Sean is panting, and his pupils are so dilated that Viggo can feel the edge of them as a tangible thing, a crater into which he's about to fall. When Viggo pulls away he clutches at his arms and whispers: "Make me, make me," and Viggo finally realises that Sean needs to be told to do this, needs to hear a voice telling him that it's okay, that giving in to this, allowing himself to be ridden and taken is okay. And then Viggo gives him that; tells Sean of his own desire while he strips him, underscoring each item of clothing with his own need; and he tells Sean of how he has seen him in his mind - pushing him down at the same time, arranging his body on the bed - on hands and knees, knees as far spread as possible, back arched, wanting to be filled. Sean is practically keening and when Viggo accidentally slips into Danish, telling Sean he wants to _kneppe_ him, the shiver that runs through him is almost strong enough to throw him off the bed. And so he continues, as he works his fingers into Sean, one at a time, telling him; that he's: "_fræk, når du er liderlig, når du er åben, åbner dig for mig, så jeg kan kneppe dig, kneppe dig, så du kan smage det, kan smage min pik i din mund, når jeg knepper din røv._" And when he finally buries himself in Sean's heat he can hardly bear to move, caught between the slick warmth and the tight feeling in his chest.

That night Sean stays and Viggo lays awake a long time, trying to figure out what has changed. In the end he gives up and contents himself with burying his nose in Sean's hair, tightening his arms around him. When he can feel Sean slip into sleep, breath evening out, he whispers "_Jeg elsker dig_," because he's fairly certain that it's too early for Sean - isn't sure it'll ever be like that for Sean - and then he feels his lips stretch in a smile as Sean mumbles that he does so too.

Viggo falls asleep and never wonders how Sean could understand what he said. And how he knew the words to say it back.

* * *

 

**Note**:

The Danish bits go:

_knep mig_   
means   
"fuck me."

_kneppe_   
means   
"to fuck."

_ that he's: "fræk, når du er liderlig, når du er åben, åbner dig for mig, så jeg kan kneppe dig, kneppe dig, så du kan smage det, kan smage min pik i din mund, når jeg knepper din røv." _  
means  
that he's "hot when you're horny, when you're open, opening up to me, so I can fuck you, fuck you so you can taste it, can taste my cock in your mouth while I fuck your ass"

 

and  
_"Jeg elsker dig."_  
means  
"I love you."

* * *


End file.
